


Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

by Verity (PenelopeGrace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18OI Secret Santa 2019, M/M, makkachin the immortal dog, she'll never die, written for secret santa, ya should have given victor some flavored lube like what chris said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeGrace/pseuds/Verity
Summary: Yuuri is Santa's best elf. He does and goes where other elves can't. After all, it would be a tragedy to disappoint the children on Christmas morning. But a year after witnessing Santa spending his Christmas morning alone, Yuuri is determined to give the perfect gift to Santa.A tiny fic where Yuuri, for once, is climbing down Santa's chimney.Written for 18OI Secret Santa 2019.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 140





	Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savsglasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savsglasses/gifts).



Yuuri is Santa's best elf. The very best out of the hundreds upon hundreds working for him full time, part-time, and volunteer. Yuuri, of course, is full time, working five days a week for almost every week of the year. He does and goes where other elves can't. Whether it’s the search for a rare ingredient for a cookie or the creation of an unusual toy, Yuuri is up for the challenge, come hell or high water. After all, it would be a tragedy to disappoint the children on Christmas morning. 

But one Christmas morning, he saw Santa sitting at his cottage window, just watching snow fall for hours. He seemed lonely and sad, and Yuuri, hiding behind a pine tree, felt his heart go out to the timeless faerie. Santa shouldn't be so alone on the holiday that is supposed to be merry and bright. After witnessing Santa spending his Christmas morning alone, Yuuri is determined to give the perfect gift to Santa next Christmas.

He quietly passed inquiries to other elves and Santa's fellow faeries in hopes they'll have a clue to what he'll like for Christmas. 

“So did Santa ever receive anything for Christmas?” offhandedly asked Yuuri while packaging some wooden trains. 

Chris, the volunteering manager, gave Yuuri a loaded look. He neatly tidied up a fancy purple bow with golden stripes and purred, “Flavored lube.” 

Yuuri choked. It wasn’t the answer he expected. He guessed it was the sort of gag gift Chris would give to anyone, and he believed that Santa truly wouldn’t be interested in that type of gift. The gift had to be something heartfelt and wonderful. Something that hasn’t been given to Santa before. So after packaging presents with Chris and the other volunteers, he went to another fae in hopes of a better answer. 

“Have you ever given a gift to Santa?”

“Yeah. Hours of my labor,” spat Yuri, the flight trainer for the reindeers. “He should be so happy that all of the reindeers I’ve trained didn’t pass out and let his old, wrinkled ass fall onto a roof. He’s so lucky he hasn’t broken his neck yet.” He glared at Yuuri, as if he had taken the name of the mighty Cauldron in vain, the mystical artifact of magic believed to be the creator of the first fae. 

Yuuri sighs at the memory as he stares down at the platter Yuri was no help either. As a fae, Santa could just float to the ground without breaking his neck. Most of Yuri’s training is teaching the reindeers how to brake and avoid a rollover of the sled. The anti-rollover spell can only stand so many rollovers before accidentally dropping gifts all over the rooftops. Then the elves would have to go into **Emergency Protocol 2** and it’s a headache for Yuuri and his anxiety spikes and he really has to stop thinking about that or else he might— 

He breathes. Better not think about that protocol. With deft fingers, he pulls out a cookie tray from the oven and begins boxing them up. He gives an aside glance at the sign above the door. 

**4 Days Until Christmas Eve**

Yuuri stares at the cookies a few minutes too long until his fellow cookie baker jolts him at the elbow. "Hai, sorry!" He stammers. 

An elf like Yuuri, Phichit tilts his head. "You've been off all year, Yuuri. You should cheer up. It's almost our vacation day!" 

"Lots of things on my mind." 

"What are you so worried about? You've experienced dozens of Christmases before. More than me." Phichit gently places down a dozen cookie boxes onto the counter. "What? Was there an impossible gift Yuuri the Best Elf couldn’t give? Yuuri the Best Elf for the last three years and gearing up for a fourth year?" 

"It isn't that," Yuuri lies. Knowing if Phichit smells even a whiff of Yuuri is up to, Phichit undoubtedly would want to help. He'll pick the perfect hamster for Santa, and he'll help Santa by throwing a party, and everyone will be there while Yuuri watches forlornly from the sidelines, desperately aching to have a small moment alone with Santa Claus. "It's just. . . I have a feeling about this Christmas." 

(And he can't bear to have Santa standing in the center of the party, supposedly the life of the party, with a fake smile etched onto his face like a children’s doll Yuuri has frequently made over the years.) 

(He wants him for himself.)

"Okay, but I'll be here if you need an ear, Yuuri." Phichit disappears into the cellar, shouting at the other elves. "We still need to meet quota for licorice brownies!" 

There's a collective groan from the other elves. No one really enjoys making licorice brownies. It's complicated, and it's hard to bring out the taste of it without overdosing it with sugar. All elves love sugar, and it’s hard to imagine other beings unable to tolerate high amounts of sugar. 

But there's an idea forming in the back of Yuuri's mind. Maybe he could steal a peek at what Santa loves to eat. He'll do it after his shift so he'll have plenty of time to memorize or copy the regular kitchen staff's menu. 

He does so once everyone has left, pretending to leave and then doubling back to have enough time to copy the list. Some of it looks. . . Boring, really. Salads with the same dressing for lunch? Dessert only comprises of sweet tea with either strawberry or blueberry jam. Breakfast is always toast with butter or jam. Santa eats _this_ every single day? Yuuri would be depressed and eat his weight in katsudon for dinner if he had to eat brown toast every day for breakfast. 

As Yuuri scratches out his copy, he muses, _At least I have an idea of where to start._

* * *

**2 Days Until Christmas Eve**

In his private apartment shoved between Phichit's and Otabek's, Yuuri has been staying up all night, only venturing outside to teleport himself to South America to retrieve cocoa beans or some sort of ingredients not easily obtained. He's not going to be an ass and steal vanilla extract from the factory's supply even though some elves and pixies have done so. The supply manager, Seung-gil, always looks crestfallen whenever the supply is shorter than the values on his data sheet. 

He sighs with relief when his souffle comes out perfectly without sinking. Twirling his fingers over it, he casts a preservation spell for warmth and freshness. Then he carefully stows it away into the secondary oven with all the other dishes and gourmet food he's been creating the last two days. He heads out to today's shift. 

"Yuuri, you look really tired," comments Minako, buttoning up her standard green elf coat. She hesitates, holding an envelope of his orders in front of Yuuri's face. "Do you need a day off?" 

"I'll be fine," says Yuuri. He's not too sure, but he should be able to handle a day of work. He takes the envelope and sighs at the long list of things and objects he must retrieve from the southern hemisphere. This time, at least, everything is in the same hemisphere. He hums, "Twin sea shells, everlasting pine cones, black sand. . ." He stuffs the list into his satchel, readying himself to magically teleport. 

It's on the retrieval of the last item on the list when Yuuri falters. He was trying to retrieve a tiny magical water stone, perfectly round and capable of changing colors on its own whim, from a waterfall when his concentration suddenly slipped. He _falls,_ dropping meters upon meters with freshwater spraying at his face until his head hit something hard and his vision goes black completely. 

He comes to a sight of silver. Moaning wordless, he winces and blinks rapidly. His head throbs as if he's been partying all night and somehow knocked his head against a keg. And it’s not even a small keg. A big keg that Yuuri should have been able to notice and avoid even while drunk. And this actually happened to Yuuri before. One elf actually made a magical snow globe of that embarrassing moment. 

“Yuuri? Can you hear me?”

The second thing Yuuri realizes is that he’s still wet with water. It’s dark up in the sky, and there’s just a hint of the moon right above him. A few more blinks of his eyes, and he suddenly realizes it’s not the moon at all. 

Santa Claus blinks at him in concern. 

Yuuri’s head has most definitely been severely injured if he’s seeing Santa. His cheeks warm, he barely manages even a word at Santa. “Uh, uh, uh,” he stumbles like a true idiot. 

“You cut your head,” whispers Santa, looking upon Yuuri with the most beautiful shade of blue eyes. In the moonlight, it looks darker than usual and just as lovely. “I’ll have to seal it before I move us, Yuuri.” He pauses. “Yuuri?” 

_You have pretty eyes,_ Yuuri thinks. _The most beautiful I’ve ever seen._

Blackness takes over, and Yuuri falls unconscious. 

* * *

He wakes up back in the infirmary room with droves of diagnostic spells hovering over his face. They're colorful, showing the healing process of a cut on the back of his head and a twisted ankle that will be set to heal completely within two hours. Elves heal quickly on their own, and external magic is only needed when the elf can't heal themselves. 

It's clear Yuuri has been hit hard enough to miss at least a day of work. Dreaming of Santa has never taken so much time away from him before. 

He allows himself to rest for an hour, more than long enough for the diagnostic spells to check his ankle and head is healing as it should. When he finally sits up, he groans, alerting the on-duty nurse. He’ll be fine. He can walk with a limp until his ankle completely heals. 

Dressed in a pristine white elfin nurse dress, Isabella rushes over. "You need to lie back down. That was a nasty fall you took." 

“But my shift,” mumbles Yuuri, whirling around for a window to see the time. There are no windows here. It’s just a room filled with other cots, four walls, and two doors. “I’m going to be late!” 

Shaking her head, the nurse firmly says, "You have today and tomorrow off. Santa's orders." 

"But. . ." 

There must have been apparent disappointment and sadness in his face, because Isabella softens. "It's alright, Yuuri. Santa understands you've been working really hard. You deserve a little break. Take a few vacation days." 

At first Yuuri didn't want to, but then he realizes that it's the perfect opportunity to create more gifts for Santa without losing a few hours of sleep. So he nods in perfect agreement to the clear suspicions of the nurse.

* * *

**Christmas Eve**

Decorations. Treats. Breakfast. Pastries. Cookies. The Santa Tracker is live now, the miniature sleigh flying overhead in England. It'll be a few minutes before it crosses the channel for the European mainland. 

Yuuri has taken the emergency shift, waiting in the factory and doing nothing as reserve personnel. None of the presents have accidentally disappeared and been eaten by the reindeers. He's due to get off an hour before midnight, which is enough time to sneak into Santa's cottage, set up Santa's presents in a neat arrangement, and get out in time to see Santa’s expressions through the window. 

The bell rings, signalling the end of his shift. He gives up his seat at the workshop for another reserved elven worker. He summons a spell to send him home. 

Grabbing the satchel full of gifts in their miniature form, he leaves the apartment complex for the snow. It's a ten minute walk to Santa's cottage, which is actually south of the North Pole. It's fairly close to Russia. 

He stops in front of the door, staring at anti-theft and intruder spells glimmering. Yuuri’s mouth drops in shock at the numerous obstacles. Santa had a few problems with reindeers coming in to poop on his couch, because Yuri told them that's where the reindeer trainer lived. The reindeers have unionized to protest Yuri’s treatment of them since Santa complained about fecal matter being found everywhere in his home. Santa had to move to the opposite side of the North Pole, because an enterprising reindeer stuffed excretion in the curtain rods and rendered the previous cottage permanently unlivable to anyone with a working nose. 

Even the windows have spells and wards and even salt lines protecting from demonic intruders. To Yuuri, it seems excessive, but he's not sure what enemies Santa might have made over the centuries. He paces around the cottage, searching for an opening and too well aware of the ticking clock. Looking up, he finds smoke coming out a chimney, and Yuuri smiles. 

He’s playing Santa to the actual Santa Claus. He might as well follow the tradition all the way through, right down to the chimney part. He begins by conjuring snow into hard ice, perfect for steps. Daintly, he climbs onto the roof and quickly snaps his fingers to make the stairs disappear, looking carefully for any curious passerbyers. Luckily, there is none. 

He lifts the chimney cap, surprised there are no ward or spell guarding against intruders and clever reindeers. He steps onto the chimney from the snow-covered rooftop, careful to place the cap exactly in its place. 

The inside of the chimney is almost unbearably hot, its sweltering heat that drives the tiniest bits of the chill out of Yuuri’s nose. The chimney is tight, every inch crawled down closer and closer to the burning fire below. Yuuri could barely see it, and he briefly wonders how Santa could do this so many times in a night. Of course, Santa is a faerie and capable of a different type of magic than elves. Perhaps, Santa doesn’t notice the soot and the smelly, hot nature of chimneys as he comes down millions of homes on Christmas Eve, because he has done it for so long. 

He wordlessly whispers the spell for fire, and the fire dims below Yuuri. He steps around it, noticing the diminishing number of firelogs, resolving to put a few in the fireplace before he leaves. 

As he pushes the fireplace door out, he magically casts away the soot, dust, and the pervasive smell of smoke off himself. Yuuri closes the door and passes by the large poodle lounging on her doggy bed. “Hi, Makkachin,” he says, passing a doggy treat from his pocket. 

The dog barks twice but accepts the treat eagerly. She thumps her tail against the wooden floor but makes no motion to stop Yuuri's plans.

Yuuri clutches at his satchels, the bells on curving tips of his dark green shoe ringing softly as he moves. He twirls around, taking in the cottage and the general life Santa led in this little place near Russia. There's random knick knacks of things children sent Santa over the centuries. Marbles, sea shells, a surprisingly accurate figurine of Prancer, the second-in-command reindeer after Rudolph. 

He turns and stares at the two socks hanging on the fireplace. Two empty socks. Lifting the clasp of his satchel, he quickly begins stuffing Victor’s sock with gifts after canceling the minimizing spells. Little figurines of Makkachin the Immortal Dog, colorful bracelets with rare beads of jade and shiny gemstones, a couple of new dark wool gloves perfectly cut for Santa. He saves the most precious gift of all, a snow globe of the North Pole’s replica with the auroras glimmering with magic as it dances among fake snow, for later. This took the longest time to create, and he decides to set it in the kitchen instead of Santa's sock like the others, surrounded by all the dishes and desserts he made. 

Chocolate eclairs lovingly wrapped in paper. Cookies nicely warm on their plates. A hot mug and silver canister of chocolate and marshmallows. Stuffed pastries with strawberry and blueberry and peach jam, all perfectly toasted to a warm bronze. A roasted chicken is gently placed on the counter, angled for the best view of its tender flesh. Steamed buns of vegetables and pork. He pulls out a hot bowl of katsudon from his satchel and removes its lid, nearly weeping at how beautiful it looks and how shameful it was that he wouldn’t be enjoying a bite. But it’s for Santa, and that’s more important than Yuuri’s love for katsudon. 

He sets up candy canes of different flavors, and then he steps backwards. He critically eyes his masterpiece, adjusting the snow globe in the center of the feast. He shakes it a little, the fake snow magically falling from the glass dome. He stands back and whispers the words to a complicated spell to prevent Makkachin from getting her paws all over Yuuri’s creations. 

Perfect. 

Bells jingling softly as he drops the hungry fire a few more logs, he breathes in the warm, scented atmosphere. He glances around the cottage once more, and the Christmas tree in the family room winks at him. He frowns, noticing a shattered bauble. The glass is all over the oak floorboards. Maybe Makkachin was trying to eat it. Wouldn’t be the first time the poodle tried eating inedible objects, but everyone knows she was getting better. 

It takes much longer than he wished to fix the bauble, but when the pieces fly up to reseal the glass ornament, Yuuri knows that it’s worth the time. He tiptoes to the front door, his fingers snapping to light up the scented candles. 

He breathes in deeply. 

With a smile gracing Yuuri's lips, he places a hand on the doorknob. 

Of course, that's when everything goes wrong. 

The doorknob slips Yuuri's fingers, the door quickly opening to let in the cold winter breeze and Santa Claus himself.

They fall into a heap of limbs, the front door closing shut. Yuuri blinks, adjust his spectacles. He freezes upon realizing Santa's intensive scrutiny. 

"I," he stammers out, quickly picking himself up, "really must go. Have the afterparty to attend." He tries to push at the door and is suddenly thrown back by a powerful barrier. 

Jumping back, he nearly tries it again in his panic until he hears Santa clearing his throat. Flushing a bright color of red, he slowly turns around and follows Santa’s gaze. A mistletoe glimmers above their head, winking with a mischievous sort of magic. Yuuri knows the price to pay to break the mistletoe's spell. 

His cheeks burning, Yuuri frantically says, "I didn't put that there." 

"I know," murmurs Santa, leaning closer to Yuuri. A warm finger gently brushes under Yuuri’s lip, confident and reassuring. “I did.” His eyes close, and his mouth captures Yuuri’s lips. 

Grabbing ahold of Santa, Yuuri finally gives into his desires, all of his latent longing and pent-up frustration he worked out in the kitchen and at late nights in his own workshop. He eagerly tugs the fluffy collar of Santa’s coat with both hands, and he kewls as Santa’s lips are so sweet and hot against his mouth, the very taste of Santa much sweeter and better than anything he has fantasized before. He ignores his fallen satchel and the large poodle darting around their legs. 

He’s been dreaming of this for decades. 

When Santa pulls back, Yuuri whines in disappointment. He wants, no, _needs,_ everything Santa could give him. "Santa," Yuuri says, breathless. There are so many unspoken words in that word, in that name. 

A blush graces Santa's cheeks, and when Santa speaks, he whispers, "No, Yuuri. Not the title. Don't call me by the title." 

“You know my name?” Yuuri unwittingly wonders, the words falling out of his lips. He never knew Santa would even know he’s one of his elves. Yuuri is merely one elf out of many. 

“How could I not?” Victor asks, “Do you know mine?” 

_"Victor,"_ breathes Yuuri, falling into the faerie's arm and falling deeper into the blooming smile spreading across the fae’s lips. He doesn't notice the mistletoe's trick spell breaking over their heads. He only knows of Victor as he's pulled to the bedroom, the curious poodle left outside the bedroom. He eagerly sinks onto the bed, the little bells on his feet tinkering as he shifts. 

Victor unbuckles his belt and seamlessly strips off the red coat, revealing nothing but smooth pale skin and a tiny black thong. His nipples are pink, so erected as if chilled by the sudden breeze. He purrs, his brilliantly blue eyes so thoroughly arresting, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you, Yuuri. I’ve been waiting all Christmas Eve." 

It takes a moment more than it should for Yuuri to register Victor’s words. He’s been too distracted at the sight of Victor unlacing his boots and kicking them aside. “Wait, what do you mean all Christmas Eve?” 

Victor smiles enigmatically. He kneels in front of Yuuri's feet, a hand touching reverently at the silver bell hanging from the shoe tip. "I was so excited when my name was finally listed in the Ledger almost exactly one year ago." 

The Ledger deserves to be capitalized. It’s made of Old Magic, tied to the very fabric of the universe. It’s how the elves and the faeries always know what to gift to a young child for Christmas. It has some seer magic in there, allowing it to foresee next year’s Christmas gift. There’s always a section for adult elves, older humans, and faeries, but typically, Santa’s workshop ignores it. 

Typically. 

He slides Yuuri’s green boot off the elf’s foot. “No one has given me anything on Christmas Day for a long time. No one until you.” 

Yuuri stares in wonder and confusion at the fae. “But,” he pauses, “but you are Santa Claus.” 

Victor pauses, working on the second foot. “Yuuri, we all have been focused on the children for so long that we've forgotten about ourselves. I remember when we first started out. A group of elves and fae, working just for fun for the children." Victor, upon taking the second shoe off, climbs over Yuuri's legs, crawling and overwhelming the elf as he nimbly pulls off Yuuri’s coat and then shirt. "I think we deserve to take a little time back for ourselves." 

Yuuri's arms unbiddenly reach out to Victor, folding himself around this faerie. When their lips touch, it's like finally coming home, finally getting the present he's always wanted. 

(The truth is this: he has wanted Victor for so long that it felt like he was always looking in, unable to touch but always able to see.) 

(High-hanging fruit.) 

It’s only when Yuuri’s hand sneaks underneath Victor’s thong did the elf notice something strange. He merely brushes his fingertips against the faerie’s ass when Victor suddenly gasps, his muscles tensing underneath Yuuri’s touch. “Victor? Did I hurt you?” Yuuri panics, wondering if he accidentally injured Victor. What if he accidentally shocked Victor with magic without knowing it? He’s been practicing with electricity and static manipulation, but his mastery is a mixed bag of going-really-damn-good or fucking-fires-everywhere. 

“No,” breathes Victor, his eyes so blue and wide. “I’ve been ready for you, Yuuri. All day, all night.” 

Yuuri doesn’t quite comprehend until Victor guides the elf’s hand to the cusp of his bottom. He still doesn’t get it, too lost in the blatant pleasure visible in Victor’s expressions, until he feels the hardness of _something_ in Victor’s ass. “Is that—?” pants Yuuri.

“Oh, yes,” purrs Victor. “All night. Up and down all the chimneys with a lubed plug in me. Come on, Yuuri. I’m all ready for you.” He cheerfully yanks his thong off, sending it flying to the floor. 

It’s as if a switch inside of Yuuri’s brain flicked on. 

Suddenly, he flips them around so they’re on their sides. Reaching below, he tugs at the plug, breathing in Victor’s frantic, desperate gasps. He’s kissing away at the corner of Victor’s mouth when Victor sharply inhales, hot come splattering between them and all over Yuuri’s bare stomach. 

Victor flushes a bright red, even brighter than his Santa’s coat. 

“Did you just—?” 

“Yes, oh, Cauldron,” Victor whispers, glancing nervously at Yuuri. “I’m sorry. I thought I would last longer.” 

“Well,” Yuuri smiles, entirely too pleased with himself. He, who has never found true confidence in any of his skills despite being called Santa’s Ace, _thrives_ under Victor’s lidded eyes. “We have all night to improve your stamina, Victor.”

* * *

There’s a loud yelp interrupting Yuuri’s sleepy state. Blinking, he watches Victor springs up, quickly unlocking his door. Makkachin, Yuuri dumbly realizes. He relaxes slightly when Victor, completely naked, returns to his side. 

“She got into the steamed buns, Yuuri.”

“But I charmed it to prevent her. . .” Yuuri’s voice trails off. He thought he had. 

“She’s quite clever. She knows her way around the anti-theft and anti-Makkachin spells,” Victor says with a bright laugh. He gently pushes Yuuri down and murmurs at the elf who’s suddenly not so sleepy anymore, “Now, where were we?” 

It takes merely five seconds for Yuuri to flip them around, mercilessly pinning the fae underneath his thighs. 

* * *

**Christmas Day**

Yuuri stirs in the perfect amount of strawberry jam into the mug of hot chocolate. He sets down the silver spoon and picks up two mugs. He finds Victor sitting on the cozy leather armchair by the window, staring outside at the snow. The same window Victor sat in front exactly one year ago. 

"Victor?" 

The faerie turns his head, his heart-shaped mouth smiling at the elf. “Yuuri! Come look at this!” He takes a cup of hot chocolate and hums in appreciation. “Wow, amazing! Make me this every morning, Yuuri!” 

The elf sits next to the fae, scooting closer until he’s halfway on Victor’s lap. Yuuri shakes his head, holding back a laugh. “You’ll get bored of it.”

“Never,” fiercely declares Victor, savoring another sip. Together, they sit at the window and watch Makkachin chase the silver-blue pixies dancing around her nose.


End file.
